


In Its Time

by kazzlikethat



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Character Study, Falling In Love, M/M, the rest of ONEUS is mentioned briefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:13:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23948227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazzlikethat/pseuds/kazzlikethat
Summary: They're not friends, anymore. But they aren't more either.They stand on this weird middle ground.Gambling with time.
Relationships: Kim Youngjo | Ravn/Lee Keonhee
Comments: 25
Kudos: 63





	In Its Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SunriseSeaMonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunriseSeaMonster/gifts).



> This story is, from the very first word I wrote to the last little details changed, thanks to the lovely [SunriseSeaMonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunriseSeaMonster/pseuds/SunriseSeaMonster). 
> 
> (And a special little thanks to Isi and Lian, for listening to me screaming about this during the whole process, ups!)

At some point after debuting Keonhee realizes Sundays stop being a thing. Not that they were a huge deal during his trainee life either, but it was different then. Weeks were still seven days long and months four weeks bound together, no more, no less.

Trainee life was full of fissures, the world as they knew it sneaking in through the smallest cracks. A gentle reminder of what life used to taste like. Sometimes, Keonhee would hear an offhand comment about family visits or phone calls. Time would stop altogether, push his thoughts into a confusing frenzy. Right, there’s a different life outside, right. One he used to be a part of.

It happens when they visit his old school. No one informs him beforehand and Keonhee collides face first with the realization. All he used to know has now left him behind. Traces of time walking past, nothing's new. The picture frame is the same, except he's missing now. It’s a weird feeling, but Keonhee doesn’t consider it unwelcome. The small fissures, they keep him grounded.

Stepping into idol life was equal parts enlightening as it was numbing. It means no more seven-day-long weeks, it means losing months to a heavy schedule. Keonhee starts registering time from promotions to fan signs, from tours to TV or radio programs. And if those overlap (and trust him, they do) the world became a series of events listed one after each other on his phone.

The fissures are now fixed, all that's left is a small window, but he's so busy on a good day, he forgets to look through it. There must be a bigger connection to the outside day to day, but Keonhee hasn't found it yet (hasn't searched for it). He suspects Hwanwoong's diaries are the dancer's anchor to a proper timeline.

In the middle of his hectic life, Sundays are not a thing anymore, but from time to time, they show up unannounced.

"Do you have any plans?" Youngjo's sudden appearance startles him, yanks him out of his own head.

Today is one of those rare _Sunday-like_ days, even if his calendar insists it's a Wednesday. A thin silence wanders around their dorm, half empty since early morning.

"Hmm... don't feel like moving," Keonhee admits. He slumped on their couch hours ago, long limbs stretched to leave zero room for someone else. Youngjo hovers above him, hair damp from a late shower.

"Can I join you?"

Keonhee squints his eyes. "I thought you were going to the studio?"

Youngjo shrugs, averts his eyes somewhere between the couch and the coffee table. There's a faint rosy color on his cheeks, one that Keonhee wouldn't notice if it wasn't such a rare sight. Barefaced, Youngjo looks more human, tangible.

"I'm not moving though."

"Of course you are not," Youngjo huffs, slides down to the floor until he can rest his head on the couch.

Keonhee purses his lips in disapproval. Throws one of the cushions on Youngjo's lap, "you're going to mess up your back."

The older gives him a glare, talking with his eyes. _Whose fault would that be?_ Keonhee reads, but doesn't indulge. Instead, he goes back to merging his own existence with the couch.

They fall into a comfortable silence. Youngjo with both earphones on and scrolling through his phone, typing from time to time. He's as unmoving as the day, lethargic, so Keonhee goes back to his wandering thoughts. He can hear Geonhak's snoring into his pillow, muffled through the door. One of the many little noises that cut through the artificial stillness. Hwanwoong must be sleeping too, and Seoho dragged Dongju out earlier to shop for _unnecessary shit_. Dongju's words, not his.

Keonhee stretches his arm out and runs his fingers through dark hair. Youngjo leans closer, like a cat seeking to be pet, and hums in appreciation. Keonhee made fun of Youngjo for his mannerisms a lot, but sometimes they caught him off guard. Sure, Youngjo tended to be a little _too much_ , but he also knew how to draw you in.

Lately, his half-lidded eyes follow him everywhere. During practice, while they eat, in the dressing rooms. Even on stage, when Keonhee should focus on his own performance.

It doesn't help that Youngjo _knows_ what he is doing. He's aware, but that doesn't mean he's ashamed of it or considers toning it down. Not even one bit. It's fine though, Keonhee is capable of reciprocating in his own –subtler– way. He's not proud of it. He's considered putting an end to it but every single time he catches Youngjo's smug expression... he can't help it.

It's a risky game to play.

They're not friends, anymore. That much is clear to Keonhee, but they aren't more either. They're standing on a weird middle ground, walk around each other with caution. They're gambling with time, neither of them ready to put an end to it.

Granted, they get even closer. Some sort of complicity is born out of it. Keonhee wonders if it all comes down to acceptance. They stopped running away somewhere along the way.

"You are awfully quiet," Youngjo points.

"I'm being dramatic, is all," Keonhee laughs it off, even if it's not a joke. His mind is starting to muddle, thoughts too heavy to carry around.

Youngjo doesn't say anything because both know what he means. He spins on his knees and rests his chin on the couch, bats his pretty eyelashes, corners of his lips turning up.

Keonhee wants to kiss the shit out of him. "Stop that," he groans, taking away his arm to cover his face instead, "stop that."

He misses the way Youngjo's expression changes from playful to something more guarded. "Sorry."

Keonhee decides it's too much melodramatic thinking for a day. He takes his phone from the coffee table and sits down, trying to chase away the ache on his muscles. He goes back to combing Youngjo's hair, enjoying that there's no hairstyle to ruin. Well, not one that means messing up someone's job, at least.

  
  


The sky is a deep blue by the time Hwanwoong appears. He walks in with half-open eyes and wobbly legs, pays them no mind as he approaches the refrigerator. Keonhee gives Youngjo an amused smile and sees the older looking smitten. Which is cute and no good for Keonhee's heart.

"It's nice seeing him rest," Youngjo mutters, careful so Hwanwoong doesn't hear them.

Keonhee agrees. He can't remember the last time they had a free day and Hwanwoong didn't sneak out to practice. He always says dancing relaxes him, but everyone has their limits.

They follow the dancer around with their eyes. He closes the refrigerator with empty hands and goes for the instant ramen instead. It isn't until he is taking his food back to the room that he catches them staring.

Hwanwoong scoffs, he would've rolled his eyes if he'd been more awake, "weirdos."

Keonhee sends him a kiss with the sole purpose of pissing him off.

The dorm gets back to life once Seoho and Dongju arrive. They make a loud entrance, the younger looking smug and Seoho carrying both their bags.

“Where’s Geonhak?” Dongju asks, before even finishing taking his coat off, “he promised to make dinner today.”

“Hello to you too,” Keonhee was already saying goodbye to the peace and quiet, “he’s sleeping.”

Dongju disappears in an instant. Seoho throws himself on the floor beside Youngjo, looking exhausted. "I'm poor now," he announces.

Keonhee rubs his eyes to shake the laziness out of his body, "what'd you buy?"

They listen to Seoho relate his afternoon until Geonhak comes out of his cave to make dinner. Keonhee decides to help and takes Youngjo with him for no other reason besides wanting to stay close. He receives a knowing look, but zero complaints.

  
  


  
  


They go to bed right after everyone else. Youngjo doesn't question him when he slips in the elder’s bed.

In his defense, he does try to fall asleep. But when you spend a whole day becoming one with the furniture the lack of movement can lead to excessive energy. Keonhee tries very hard to contain his laugh, shaking with the force of it. The body resting at his side stirred, facing him.

“I swear to God Keonhee,” Youngjo lets out a deep sigh, but there’s a smile underneath his words. Keonhee reaches for his face in the darkness, almost pokes his eye. Youngjo hisses and Keonhee refrains from pointing out how catlike that reaction is. “You are a menace, go to sleep.”

“I’m trying hyung.”

Youngjo nuzzles into his palm, their noses barely an inch apart, “try harder.”

“I can’t stop thinking,” he admits.

“You’ve been thinking all day, what more do you even have left to think about?” Youngjo complains. He wraps his left arm on Keonhee’s waist, bringing him closer.

Keonhee breathes in hair and coughs. He scrunches his nose and tries to flatten Youngjo’s dark hair with his chin, to prevent it from happening again. “I heard a conversation the other day.” Youngjo doesn’t ask, but he excuses himself anyways, “I wasn’t eavesdropping, just passing by.”

“And?”

“I heard trainees talking about us,” Keonhee elaborates, “I mean, not you and me, about the group.”

“Alright?”

Keonhee bites his lip, not knowing if he wants to laugh because it’s actually funny or out of awkwardness. He isn't even sure why he's telling Youngjo about it. “Did you know shipping is also a thing between them? They were discussing whether you and Hwanwoong are doing it for fan service or not. But they shipped you two and Leeon the most.”

“For real?” Youngjo laughs into Keonhee’s neck, “I knew some fans did but, trainees?”

He sounds amused by it. It made Keonhee laugh as well, when he heard it the first time. But he's still a bit confused over why he's remembering now. He never had a problem with it, finds it kind of funny seeing people make a huge deal out of the smallest actions. Then again, he doesn’t think he gets much attention when it came to shipping.

“Does it ever worry you?”

“What?”

“How much others _think_ they see.” Keonhee is always surprised by the easiness some of the members have in front of the cameras. Not like he feels uncomfortable, not at all. “Sometimes it feels like the smallest things we do can be interpreted in countless ways. It's not even about ships or anything. But thinking that some of the things they see are actually there worries me. Does that make sense?”

Youngjo tilts his head back, resting more on the pillow than on Keonhee.

“I don’t know, they won’t know unless you _actually_ tell them. Even if they point out something true, they wouldn't have a confirmation.” Youngjo’s eyes open, Keonhee can feel the weight of the stare more than see it, “I don’t think it's worth worrying over.”

“Is it bad that I don’t think I want them to know me that much?”

Youngjo hums, a low rumble coming from his throat, “no, definitely no. Even with close friends, there’s always something you’ll keep to yourself.”

“You are probably right,” Keonhee shimmies around on the bed to get comfortable again.

“I am, now please can we sleep?”

Keonhee throws his leg over Youngjo’s and cuddles to him, “yes, sorry.”

In his defense, he tries even harder this time, fights to keep his eyes closed. He makes a genuine effort and yet, “hyung do you think art can make you immortal?”

“That’s it,” Youngjo gets out of the bed in the blink of an eye, “get out.”

“No, let me sleep here, I’ll shut up this time I swear,” Keonhee tightens his grasp on the sheets.

“I’m not throwing you out,” Youngjo shout-whispers, “come on, we’ll wake everyone up if we talk here.”

They move back to the living room. Keonhee forgets all about art and immortality during the process. Youngjo covers their legs with one of Dongju’s blankets. They sit close, knees and shoulders pressed together.

There’s a quietness in the living room that tastes sweet to Keonhee. It's not silence, quite the contrary. It's a mosaic of little sounds reaching them muffled. Cars passing by, light footsteps from above. _Dress shoes_ , Keonhee’s mind provides. Youngjo is tapping the window, right where streams of light find their entry. A translucent canvas for streetlights to paint. In the building across the street someone watches TV with the lights turned off. A couple floors down a window opens, a young woman lights a cigarette. Keonhee thinks there's still Sunday on the air, the day stretches ahead of them.

Youngjo stops tapping and spreads his hand on the window. Keonhee knows what he’s going to say before his lips even part.

“I miss smoking,” he admits, nostalgia coating his voice in a tone Keonhee is familiar with. It makes him think of their debut month. A bittersweet memory. The smell of anxiety following them around, persistent. The unexpected distance and, later, late night phone calls. Some left unanswered and some too tense to remember. Makes him think of imbalance and, at the same time, of a well-crafted bridge between sadness and joy. Keonhee swallows down the memories, blinks back into the present. Averts his eyes to take in Youngjo's presence, it's been over a year now.

He never saw Youngjo smoke, but they all knew he used to when they met him. Could smell it sometimes on raincoats or jackets. Keonhee hates that he’s curious about that Youngjo. The pre-debut, pre-RBW Youngjo only Geonhak knew and rarely came up in conversations. The old version of them lost somewhere along the way.

 _Fissures_ , he thinks again. Like trainee-life or idol-life, Youngjo used to be full of fissures for him. Off-handed comments, blurry pictures, unreleased lyrics scribbled on unfinished notebooks. The underlying sadness behind wide smiles. Almost imperceptible openings that made way to an abandoned past.

It’s funny, how much Youngjo can share without revealing anything at all. He can stand on a spotlight with open arms, but remain unreadable. The trick is you'll think you know it all. You'll think you know until the image tips off balance, shatters into a million pieces. And then, between shards of assumptions, stands an unlimited amount of missed truths.

“How come it’s been almost three years but I still…” Youngjo leaves the sentence unfinished. He moves, restless. Frees his legs from the blanket and pulls them closer to his chest. Keonhee watches Youngjo lick his bottom lip in a quick motion, and then pout.

“Three years aren’t that much, isn’t even a quarter of your life.” Youngjo lets out a contained laugh at his logic. “Worry when you’ve surpassed the years you smoked.”

Youngjo’s hand finds his nape, “next year then,” he says, and presses uneven circles on Keonhee’s skin with his thumb.

The gesture makes Keonhee’s heart start racing, a sense of déjà vu washing over him. Keonhee wants to kiss him.

Wonders, for the millionth time, what are they playing at.

They kissed once, what feels like a lifetime away.

It was the first and only time he visited Youngjo at his small studio. Keonhee can't recall why or how he ended up there. The day is nothing but a blur of feelings now.

The studio was warm and stuffy and Keonhee sat on the floor, back against the wall. He tried to make himself smaller, use as little as possible of the cramped space. Youngjo stared at him from above and they talked. Keonhee knows they talked a lot but can't bring their words back to life, no matter how hard he tries.

He knows he'd been lost in thought at the moment, lost somewhere far inside his body. Remembers lifting his chin up, facing Youngjo and seeing someone new. Another version of the rapper. A vision that overlapped perfectly with the fierce trainee he felt so close to.

The outline was the same, yet the coloring didn’t match.

He was more dark eyes than anything else, messy hair thrown out of his face. He was less vibrant and more imprecise strokes of faded dark tones. His presence felt all-consuming, that day. A gorgeous creature Keonhee couldn't resist.

And he doesn’t know why, or how, _what were they even saying?_ – but Youngjo’s hand found the back of his head, fingertips playing with Keonhee's hair. Uncalculated.

Keonhee’s mind kept racing, saw the other lean closer and the world continued to spin, heavy. Their lips touched. Anxiety tensed his muscles, he wanted to let go, wished something would happen. Anything to put a stop to his overthinking. Youngjo breathed in, sharply, and Keonhee wondered if he was surprised by his own actions.

He didn’t ask, didn’t indulge the questions. Keonhee grasped Youngjo's arm, too tight, close to painful, and pressed their lips back together. He felt lightheaded. Everything was warm but a shiver ran down his spine.

Their kiss is all that’s imperfect. Clumsy, Keonhee found Youngjo's face with both hands, pushed him against the wall. His movements lacking finesse, a little too quick, but he couldn't find it in himself to mind. He felt Youngjo's body heat through their clothes, tried to commit the sensation to memory. He was scared, didn't know why but he was.

Youngjo pulled him closer by the waist, Keonhee stumbled with his own feet. It was awkward and uncomfortable, way too hesitant, Youngjo was too quiet, Keonhee too anxious. Youngjo moved with feigned confidence and Keonhee was quick to read past it. The world didn’t fade, Keonhee wishes it did.

The world was there, intact, threatening. Even when their tongues met, even if Keonhee finally let instinct take over his body. Youngjo's teeth caught his bottom lip and Keonhee felt overwhelmed with emotions, he deepened the kiss. It was too much to process. He couldn’t grasp all that was happening.

Keonhee felt like crying but heard himself laugh instead. It was too much.

Right then and there, mouths pressed together, breath mingling, Keonhee felt the weight of reality crushing him. His body finally catching up to his anxious brain. _I'm going to fall in love with him_ , he thought, _I'm going to love him and it's going to hurt, even if he loves me back._ The realization clawed at his heart until he couldn't take it anymore, he gasped in surprise.

Youngjo pulled away and Keonhee saw his own emotions reflected on his eyes: fear.

It never happens again.

“It’s starting to rain.”

Keonhee tries to tune in back to now, senses his mind drifted away, isn't sure for how long. The thin rain Youngjo mentions isn't more than a drizzle. It goes down slow, yellows and reds flashing through it. He can see the empty street that crosses theirs turning damp, dark, and he feels restless, “I want to go out.”

Youngjo nudges him with his shoulder, playful, “if we did, we would end up getting sick.”

Keonhee presses his lips together, hums a no, “I wouldn’t.” He rarely gets sick.

“But I would, you giant child!” Youngjo’s protest is tinted in disbelief.

“Well, I wasn’t inviting you anyways,” Keonhee leans down, close enough to get cross-eyed.

He swears Youngjo _growls._ Tries to stare Keonhee dead on with his best poker-face, “you look stupid from this close.”

“So do you.”

He doesn’t, or, well, maybe a bit. It’s always kind of awkward to try and make sense of someone’s face this close, but Keonhee is biased. He really, _really_ , wants to kiss Youngjo again.

His insides are aching, _it’s been so long, it’s been so long_.

Why have they been playing this for so long?

Keonhee can’t point out when he stopped seeing Youngjo as discarded pieces of a puzzle, when the edges became fuzzy. Youngjo as an unattainable form that could surround everything, Youngjo as a whole. A continuum of existence, ever changing yet his essence the same.

It made Keonhee feel timeless, it made him want to stay closer. Rest his head on Youngjo’s shoulder and breathe in his scent, let it mix with the smell of night and cool air.

“When was the last time we could do this?”

Youngjo yawns into the back of his hand, “right before _Twilight_ promotions started.”

Right, _right_.

“When you came back,” he remembers now. Youngjo’s skin glowing under the morning sun, moving painfully slow, too tired for his eyes to stay open. Tales of home and childhood. That's right, it's been over a year now. Time, time is such a funny thing.

Keonhee feels tiredness slowing down his thoughts. It feels like nothingness swallows the room. He’s high on sleep. Youngjo touches his cheek with his fingertips. It's soft and careful, he can't help letting his eyes close for a minute.

“You look ready to sleep.” He doesn’t want to. Keonhee wants to stay here forever, can see they're getting closer to _something_. He just hasn't figured it out yet. He needs to stay a little bit longer, in this small parenthesis of time. With the lingering scent of Youngjo’s cologne surrounding him and the cold biting on his skin. He wants to stay here, make it a never-ending loop until every single one of his discarded thoughts fade. A place and time to wish it all, to want and entertain the thought of actually _taking_ for once.

“Make me coffee,” he mumbles, resting his forehead on Youngjo’s shoulder, “please, please.”

Youngjo makes a fuss about it, does his best to talk Keonhee out of it but in the end gives in and goes to boil water. Calls him a lost case, predicts how much of a mess they’ll be in tomorrow’s practice. Keonhee decides that’s a problem for his future self. He’s too content right now to give it up – Youngjo threw Dongju’s blanket over his shoulders before going, pressed a kiss on the top of his head.

Keonhee receives the steamy mug and thinks, _I love him, I love him_. Waits for the panic to kick in. The coffee is sickly sweet, it numbs his taste buds. He tries to keep the frown out of his face but fails, he scrunches his nose while Youngjo laughs at his expression.

“That one is mine, actually,” the rapper admits, taking the mug from Keonhee’s hands and offering his.

“You did that on purpose!” _I’m so fucking in love with him_.

Youngjo hides his teasing smile behind his mug, big dark eyes, ruffled hair. An ambulance cuts through the night, through their little world, gets closer, closer and then fades as fast as it came. But Youngjo pays it no mind, his gaze is transfixed on Keonhee. His eyes flicker with every trace of light entering the living room reflecting on them. Keonhee drinks the rest of his coffee in one go, leaves the mug on the small table. Finds a comfortable position on the couch and pats his side. “Come here,” he says, voice small, a soft whisper. Youngjo complies.

They sit there, Youngjo’s hand warm against his thigh, heads touching. Keonhee’s mind is getting quieter now, and they carry on whispering to each other. Keonhee takes Youngjo’s hand in his, intertwines their fingers and keeps his eyes closed. “Tell me something new,” he pleads. So Youngjo does. The night dissolves in stories and names with no face attached to them, places he's never been to coming to life. Stories of before, from way back. Before trainee life, even before music.

Youngjo’s voice becomes airy, thinner, until it stops altogether. Keonhee looks at Youngjo’s mug and finds it still full. He smiles so big he’s glad he can’t see himself. He must look sickly smitten.

Keonhee moves carefully, reaches for the blanket and throws it over them. He gets comfortable, still holding Youngjo’s hand in his. He fights sleep again, determined of not letting go of the moment. Something changed again, he realizes. The thought doesn’t scare him like it should, it takes away the edge and tension of months of avoidance.

He lets go of whatever control was left, feels tears starting to blurry his vision. _He knows,_ Keonhee thinks, giving Youngjo a side glance, _he’s known for a while too._

Time is a tricky thing. You can try to measure it like everyone else does, if you want. But it's a never-ending force. It stretches out or shrinks, it jumps and twists. Whatever it does, it can’t change things that are bound to happen.

They’re standing on the edge of this weird middle ground. It could’ve taken months or years, the world never stopped. It doesn’t stop now, either. He knows he is in love and the world keeps going, unbothered. There’s no broken glass or dramatic crashes, there’s nothing but the rawness of it all. And tomorrow, whenever that will be, Keonhee will say it out loud. In its time.


End file.
